


New York, Angelica, and Me

by thomasjeffersonsmacaroni



Series: The Other 51 [33]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 17:08:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10495653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thomasjeffersonsmacaroni/pseuds/thomasjeffersonsmacaroni
Summary: The story of Maria Reynolds and Angelica Schuyler.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Insomniac City: New York, Oliver, and Me by Bill Hayes.

I left New York as a little girl, visions of liberty and freedom and _largeness_ swimming around my head and seeping into my body. I entered it again as a woman, and all I saw of it was buildings and work and buildings and work and buildings.

Angelica Schuyler was much like New York in that regard, and tall and looming, too. It was no wonder to me that _she_ was _my_ boss and not the other way around. I only hoped she would be a good one.

 

"Ms. Lewis."

"Yes, ma'am?"

She was only Ms. Schuyler to me then, only my boss leaning against the walls of the cubicle, peering at the photos of my family and my cat but saying nothing.

"I usually take my new employees out for lynch. What time would be good for you?"

"Today?" I suggested, smiling awkwardly.

"Today would work. Let's do today."

 

We ate lunch at a nearby Panera. I ate a salad and drank water, and she took bites of a panini and sips of soda.

"So, tell me about yourself?" she said.

"What is there to say?"

There was nothing to say. I was just a single mother living on minimum wage, having escaped from an abusive household, just another face among thousands of others.

"I don't know. Just...anything, I guess. What's your favorite food, for example?"

That was easy. "Codfish."

"Favorite color?"

"Orange. Like a sunset, not really bright and fake."

"Favorite sport?"

"Don't like sports."

She quizzed me all through lunch. And that was our first interaction as employer and employee.

 

Our second came a little later, at my first inspection.

"You've been doing great, Ms. Lewis. I'm proud to have you here."

"Yes, ma'am."

I found myself unable to say any more for months.

 

Then, my little Susie got sick, and I had to visit Ms. Schuyler again.

"My daughter has a stomach bug," I said. "Could I get leave for a little while so that I can take care of her?"

I didn't know how I would do this. How I would survive with little to no money for a week (the doctor said it was a really bad one).

"Of course you may, Ms. Lewis. You look nervous. Are you all right?"

I meant to nod. But somehow, I ended up shaking my head, and the words spilled out about my poverty and my worry, about my fear and how Susie was the only thing I lived for, but mainly about James back in Texas, and how far I had traveled to escape him.

Ms. Schuyler did not speak, only placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Thank you for telling me this, Ms. Lewis. If you need any help, maybe a pay raise or something else...tell me."

 

Ms. Schuyler visited me once a day during that week with cookies and flowers and get-well wishes. And when I got back, she upped my pay to one dollar more per hour.

"A long-time worker of our company has retired," she said to me and a couple of others. "So we can afford to pay you more. And I say you deserve it."

"Thank you, Ms. Schuyler," we said in unison. "Thank you so much."

 

The extra pay helped me. But it didn't help much.

I found myself in despair once more, juggling Susie and work and money and James, who had suddenly moved to New York, but I did not dare come to Ms. Schuyler again. I did not want to abuse her kindness.

"It's okay," she told me when she found out again. "Hey - would you like to move in with me? We have space for both you and your daughter."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Don't call me ma'am," she said, smiling softly. "Call me Angelica, please."

"Well, in that case, call me Maria...please."

"Of course."

 

It was just the three of us. Somehow, it was calming, and with her by my side, I felt safer around James when I saw him in public.

That was during the day. But in the night, I had suddenly become plagued by nightmares, so terrifying that I woke up screaming in the night.

Eventually, Angelica offered to let me sleep with her. I would nuzzle my face into her chest without willing it, and she would wrap an arm around me and stroke my hair, and everything would be all right.

It was during one of the better nights, during which we were cuddling, that I realized that I was falling in love. For a moment I leaned in to kiss her, but decided against it and pulled away, and that was when she pulled me into her and kissed me back.

Her lips were soft and warm and safe and as beautiful as her, and I relaxed in her arms for the first time in months.

"I love you, Maria," she whispered into my ear, and I did not care that it was too early for that kind of language.

"I love you, too."

With Angelica, I was safe. I would always be safe. For the first time in my life, everything would be all right.


End file.
